


Cheap wine

by reus123



Series: Main [2]
Category: Town of Salem (Video Game)
Genre: Alcoholism, I should really be doing work instead of this, Implied Swearing, Jailor is done with everyone's bs, poor dude needs a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 21:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16961478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reus123/pseuds/reus123
Summary: The Vigilante gets drunk





	Cheap wine

The alcohol burns more potently than any fire.

The Vigilante grimaces as he forces the liquid down his throat, feeling its awful warmth and hating every moment. He knows the Veteran has been watching his drinking habits lately, and he supposes that's why he finds himself wandering the outskirts of town, trying not to trip over himself in the growing dusk. He rationalises these nightly excursions as just another acquired habit, but he knows, deep down, that he wants to escape the pity that he sees on his old friend's face, that he can't bear to face the shame that chips away at him even now, alone with the stars and the moon and his own guilty conscience. He takes another gulp from the bottle, washing out the voice of reason.

He had spent longer than usual at the grave today. He'd sat on the cold grass and watched the sky as it turned from red to pink to a gentle blue, watching the clouds scud slowly across the surface. He'd sat until the Doctor found him, and then he allowed himself to be taken into the comforting warmth of her hospital, where she muttered her usual tirade about catching a cold and then discharged him. It was a tedious process, but he didn't mind the company. Gravestones are rarely talkative, after all. 

And now he stumbles along, trying his hardest to forget the glassy eyes of his lover, trying to burn out the ache in his chest with cheap wine. "Unsophisticated stuff." He laughs, and doesn't stop until his breath runs out. "But I'll forgive that because I love you," he wheezes, and suddenly he realises that his cheeks are wet with tears. He wipes them away with a shaking hand, and then empties the bottle for good measure. 

There is a familiar door in front of him and he wonders if he should discard the bottle now, before an overenthusiastic bodyguard sees him. But he's too far removed to care, and he has business to settle. He remembers that first morning, remembers how the doorstep pooled with blood, as red as the morning light, and just as cold. The ache subsides a little. In its place rises anger, hot and uncontrolled, a tide of wrath that pounds in his ears and sets his hands curling into fists. 

There is a creak as the door opens. He sees the Jailor, staring at him with defeated resignation, and suddenly the bottle in his hand seems far more useful. "You killed him," he growls, "you bas-"

The Jailor's hands are around his neck before he finishes. "Are you going to leave me alone one day? Or are you going to keep ruining your own life?" He murmurs, ignoring the Vigilante's strangled breaths. "I'm not sure if you realise," his hands press down harder, eyes taking on a flat shine, "but I was doing my job that night, unlike you." The Vigilante is surprised to find his vision blurred, the burning in his lungs somehow reaching up to his eyes. The bottle slips from his grasp, shattering weakly on the ground. There is a sigh, and his body crumples as the Jailor releases him. "Get your act together before you get killed."

He breathes heavily, shaking his head to clear away the static. One hand searches the ground, discreetly, for a glass shard, because he knows that he needs to end it, that this is the only way to stop the grief from tearing him apart. He stares at the Jailor's cold eyes and he wants nothing more than to see him bleed. Ever so slowly, he hauls himself upwards, staggering a little as the world tilts unpredictably. 

He doesn't even have time to get close to the other man before he trips over the Jailor's foot, and the Vigilante finds his face pressed into the dirt, the Jailor's hands prising away his makeshift weapon. "You can't keep going on like this," the Jailor mutters, his tone pleading even as he fastens cuffs around the Vigilante's wrists, hauling him upright. "I'll release you in the morning, when you've calmed down." The Vigilante kicks at him, stumbling a little, and he sees the Jailor's fist come towards him before he finds himself falling into unconsciousness.

The tang of blood is still in his mouth when he wakes. "Hey." A gentle voice, dragging him from an easy sleep. "Wake up, cmon." A hand, shaking his shoulder, and now he begins to feel the first pricks of pain, jumping along his jaw. He feels himself being rolled onto his back, his awareness fully returning. He wishes that it didn't.

"Jesus christ, what happened to you?" It's the Transporter, and the Vigilante wants nothing more than to punch the other man's pitiful expression into the dirt, but his head sparks with pain even at the thought. 

"None of your business," he replies, trying to maintain a collected composure, as if he hadn't been found on the ground outside the town prison, dumped like a cooling corpse onto the dirt. He closes his eyes, trying his best to pass out again, but the Transporter pulls insistently at his arm. "Leave me alone," the Vigilante mutters, but he allows himself to be pulled upright, and doesn't resist as the Transporter slings one of his arms around his shoulders. "I'm sorry for being such a mess," he says, but the other man just laughs.

"It's alright, I forgive you."

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't like this fic, not sure what my intention was when I wrote it but this isn't it lmao.


End file.
